


Each Other Now Embrace

by diemarysues



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, F/F, FemBagginshield, Female Bilbo, Female Thorin, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, Prompt Fill, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 01:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Bilbo and Thorin go outside during Gandalf’s big chirstmas/new years party and it’s snowing and they kiss under a streetlamp <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Each Other Now Embrace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seedysunflower](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=seedysunflower).



> This is the fic that hamsterfic distracted me from. But at least I got it done!
> 
> (Pass on thanks to alkjira, because without her, there'd not have been a kiss at all.)

One thing about Gandalf’s parties was that they were unquestionably unforgettable. He’d been described, by several different people, as a wizard when it came to entertainment (others described him as disturber of the peace). Bilbo thought she would’ve been more impressed with this fact if it wasn’t for the second thing about Gandalf’s parties.

 

He never held them at his own home.

 

Bilbo wasn’t 100% sure that Gandalf had a home – he often looked like a rambler, so it was hard to say one way or the other – but that didn’t mean that he could just set up shop wherever he liked.

 

She could very well remember when he’d dropped by her apartment a couple of years ago – they’d had a confusing conversation about mornings and adventures, and come dinnertime, her home had been overrun with thirteen strangers and an unfairly amused Gandalf.

 

The fact that those thirteen became good friends of hers was entirely beside the point.

 

This year, Gandalf’s party coincided with Christmas – not that he’d ever needed a reason to have a big to-do. Bilbo considered the dancing snowman on the cover of the card with a dubious expression, then flipped it open. Her eyebrows crept upwards and hit their peak when she read that the venue was a pub called the Prancing Pony.

 

Amongst her surprise was sharp relief that her home was safe. She smiled a little and placed the card on the mantelpiece (which already held a veritable forest of greeting cards), then wandered slowly into the kitchenette so she could mark the date of the party on her calendar.

 

Before she could, the phone rang. And before Bilbo could even greet her caller, the person on the other line barked, “Bilbo. Is that you?”

 

“Considering you dialled my home number, I’m surprised you’re even asking.”

 

“You could’ve gotten a housemate.”

 

Bilbo snorted. Even if the lovely, rich voice hadn’t been clue enough to her caller’s identity, the brusque almost-rudeness was enough of a confirmation. “Hello to you too, Thorin. What was it you wanted?”

 

“Have you been invited to Gandalf’s get-together?”

 

“Mmhmm. I assume that means you and the family are going as well.”

 

There was a slight pause before a scratching sound started on the other end, like Thorin had nodded and her earrings correspondingly scraped over the phone. “D’you have any idea where that pub is supposed to be?”

 

“Yeah, it’s up in Bree. Not too far from here.”

 

“Good. I’ll pick you up an hour before the party?”

 

Bilbo rolled her eyes at Thorin’s presumption. (And at her own easy consent.) “Half-hour. Even with your abysmal driving we’ll not take long.”

 

Thorin grunted. “Right. See you.”

 

“Bye.”

 

* * *

 

As was expected, Bilbo was early and Thorin was late. (Though, really, the net result might mean they’d be on time by Gandalf’s standards.)

 

Standing on the front steps of her apartment building, Bilbo kept looking up at the darkly gray sky. She hoped that it wouldn’t snow or rain or hail while she waited – though if it did all she had to do was head back inside. Even so, despite the ominous clouds gathering overhead, by the time Thorin’s car pulled up by the sidewalk, the weather remained fine.

 

She’d only just skipped down the steps when the passenger side door opened. Dís unfolded herself from the seat and stepped out, arranging her little son against her hip, and then swooped down to kiss Bilbo on her cheek. Bilbo smiled and returned the favour and then, dropping back on her heels, kissed Kíli’s cheek as well. He giggled.

 

“Alright, that’s enough greetings. Do you want Fíli, or Kíli?”

 

Caught by surprise, Bilbo felt her mind blank. “Uh, both?” She gave her head a little shake. “I mean, why?”

 

“So I can shove one in the front seat with you. We’re a bit full,” Dís said, jerking her head towards the back seat of the car, which held Frerin and Víli (they both waved, and Bilbo waved back). Her older son, Fíli, was seated in the front seat.

 

“Oh! Well, I’ll just sit in the back, then –”

 

“No, you’re not. I know my brother and my husband, and I know you. They’ll shove you into a tiny corner and you’ll let them. At least I can and do defend my leg space.” She distractedly adjusted Kíli’s little bobble hat. “C’mon, before we’re later than we already are.”

 

“Leave Fíli where he is, I guess.”

 

“Alright, let’s go.”

 

Bilbo and Fíli were both small enough that they could sit side by side – and because the boy had no chance of escape, he was forced to hug Bilbo. Despite the fact that he was six years old, thank you very much, and definitely too old for icky hugs.

 

“Keep telling yourself that, son,” Víli said, reaching forward and tousling blond hair.

 

“Dad!”

 

Thorin sighed. She was dressed in her customary blues, and had what looked like chain braided into her hair. “So where do I go from here, Bilbo?”

 

“My vote is that we stay,” Frerin said, poking his head forward. “You’ll make us food, won’t you, Bilbo?”

 

She snorted at the wide-eyed expression she was levelled with. “As much as I’m flattered by your love of my cooking” – she knew this for a fact, as he wasn’t shy in saying so – “I don’t have enough food in the pantry for all of us. Plus we’ve all RSVP’d with Gandalf.”

 

He settled back into his seat, pouting, and downright ignoring Thorin’s filthy stare.

 

Bilbo shook her head. “Straight on until the traffic light, Thorin,” she prompted, smiling when Fíli (who was grumbling under his breath) unconsciously leaned into her side. “Then we go left.”

 

* * *

 

Bilbo initially had some misgivings about Gandalf’s choice of party location – especially when she saw that Fíli and Kíli were attending – but it seemed that he’d bought out the entire place especially. Tinsel and baubles shone in the cosy light, and the barman – Barliman – had set his heater to ‘comfortably warm’.

 

She was glad to be surrounded by familiar faces (for once). There were Elrond and Thranduil in the corner, speaking with Galadriel. Ori ran past with Fíli, both laughing gleefully as they chased after Legolas. Tauriel was speaking with Dís, Kíli having drifted into her arms, while Víli played cards with Dwalin, Glóin, Nori, and Bofur. Bifur and Dori seemed to be dancing – as much as Dori could dance while still trying to keep both eyes on his youngest brother – accompanied on the floor by Bombur and his wife. Only earlier, Bilbo had been coerced onto the same dance floor by Frerin, both laughing as they made clumsy circles. He’d disappeared off towards the card game, around the same time Balin and Óin disappeared with the barman – presumably in search of stronger liquor – and she could only shake her head fondly.

 

There were very many children present – more than Bilbo had expected, anyway – and she rather suspected she’d be bullied into telling stories before the night was out. Not that she minded, honestly, but she’d have to work out what tale she hadn’t yet told to all the children. There was a bit of an overlap, considering she saw some more often than others.

 

Maybe the one with the Trolls, she mused. They always liked that one, enough that they wouldn’t mind if it was a repeat –

 

“You seem deep in thought.”

 

Bilbo blinked, gazing up into Thorin’s pale eyes. “That’s not too unusual, I hope.”

 

“Not for you,” Thorin admitted. “If it was Frerin I’d be worried.”

 

“You are entirely too mean to your brother.”

 

“Eldest’s prerogative,” Thorin said smugly, and Bilbo would have had a protest against this, except she was rather distracted by the curve of thin lips. Now that she chose to look closely, she could also see that Thorin’s cheeks were flushed pink, probably because of the eggnog. Couldn’t be any other reason.

 

Silence descended between them, comfortable like a warm duvet on a snow-morning, and Bilbo felt like she was glowing with happiness. (Though, to be honest, if anyone could glow it’d probably be Galadriel; she had an ethereal quality that no one seemed able to equal.)

 

A roar of laughter sounded from the card table; Nori looked impossibly self-satisfied as he collected the pile of chips he’d just won. Dwalin laughingly bellowed something about cheating, making the noise level rise. Frerin patted Glóin’s shoulder as he grumpily left the table, taking the empty chair and loudly proclaiming he’d definitely win the next round.

 

Bilbo snorted quietly.

 

Thorin cleared her throat. “Bilbo, can we… go somewhere quiet and talk?”

 

Her eyebrows rose. “I’m surprised you’re asking.” When Thorin’s expression soured, Bilbo laughed. “Yes, yes, we can go outside.”

 

Going by the looks she’d been receiving all night, as well as the hand at the small of her back, Bilbo rather thought that she had a good idea what their talk would be about. Still, she kept her face blank when they stepped out into the cool, quiet street.

 

Thorin lit a cigarette, passing it to Bilbo who took it without thinking. They shared it between them, exhaling sweet smoke and listening to the faint sounds of the party within. When their fingers brushed, Bilbo met their gazes. She saw the pained look in blue eyes, and almost dropped the cigarette.

 

The taller of the two sighed, and straightened her shoulders. “Bilbo, I need to… I need to ask you something.”

 

Well, it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen this coming. Bilbo also stood straighter – remaining about a head shorter than Thorin – and gathered her courage. Best get it out in the open as soon as possible, so that there’d not be any misunderstandings between them. “I’m not in love with Frerin.”

 

“I – what?”

 

“I saw you looking. Glaring, really. And I just wanted to make it clear that I have no designs on your brother. So you don’t have to worry for him.” She said all this without her voice going wobbly and without her words suddenly deserting her; a feat to be proud of. Except –

 

Thorin looked utterly and completely nonplussed. The streetlamp caught the silver chain and the blue glass beads in her hair – and made her earlier-noticed flush even more apparent.

 

Bilbo’s heart sank. “That’s not what you wanted to ask me.”

 

“No. I mean – it’s a bit of a relief to hear that, if I’m honest, but, Frerin really wasn’t the one in our family I was concerned about.”

 

She frowned. “Well I’m not in love with Dís either, if that’s what you’re asking. Or Víli.”

 

Thorin sighed. “I mean me.”

 

Um. “You mean you what?”

 

“I mean…” She flicked the fag end onto the street, and carefully took Bilbo’s smaller hands in hers. “I mean, I wanted to know if you loved me. Or, or at least whether you’d consider it.”

 

Bilbo’s jaw went slack.

 

“I know that it’s disgustingly cliché to do this at a Christmas party – though I think I get points back for it not actually being Christmas Eve – but, um, there weren’t any opportunities before today. Not without making an excuse to visit you, and that might have triggered alarm bells. Plus I wasn’t brave enough.” Thorin laughed hollowly. “Not that I feel very fearless now, let me tell you –”

 

Thorin was… rambling. Thorin never rambled.

 

“– one of my dearest friends, you see, and then suddenly you were more. To me, I mean… and apparently it’s clear as diamond to everyone else, because Dwalin told me they were all taking bets. That’s actually quite annoying now that I think of it – but that doesn’t mean you’re obliged to say yes! I – there’re no expectations at all, Bilbo, and if you want us to stay friends that’s perfectly acceptable, I swear –”

 

Under the mounting panic across Thorin’s face was the earnestness in her blue eyes. She continued speaking, almost stumbling over her words in her haste to get them out, and Bilbo felt a rush of affection for the endearing picture Thorin presented.

 

“– I know I was a clot when we first met. I know. I’d change it all in a heartbeat, treat you better, and hopefully that would make you think of me better. As it is I –”

 

“Thorin,” Bilbo broke in gently, “will you shut up and kiss me?”

 

There was the barest of pauses – it only just lasted seconds, and yet Bilbo felt like she’d said the wrong thing, that she’d drawn the wrong conclusions. But that was silly, wasn’t it? Thorin had been extremely clear, had almost spelled out how she felt and how she hoped Bilbo felt –

 

Then Thorin’s hands released hers, grabbing lightly at Bilbo’s upper arms. The curly-haired of the two had risen onto her toes involuntarily; her head tipped backwards and she was _still_ too short compared to Thorin. They both realised this at the same time, both huffed out low laughter, and then Thorin was leaning down, their eyes closed –

 

Bilbo had to curl her hands into Thorin’s shirt to keep her balance. Her knees were suddenly very wobbly, and they would’ve been forced to cut short their kiss if Thorin hadn’t had the bright idea of slipping an arm behind Bilbo’s back, hauling her close enough that there was barely a breath of air between their bodies. Even so Bilbo tried to press closer – for the warmth, of course, since neither were wearing coats – her round nose bumping against Thorin’s sharp one.

 

They parted for air, and Thorin let her lips wander, finding the curve of Bilbo’s cheek, the tip of her ear, the line of her brow. She dropped another kiss onto Bilbo’s nose before slender fingers slipped into her hair and hauled her downwards.

 

Her free hand was trapped between them; Bilbo could swear that Thorin’s heart was racing almost as fast as her own. They kissed and kissed and kissed until they were left breathless and shivering – though not because of the temperature. Thorin’s hold was much too warm for that.

 

Bilbo let herself rock back on her heels, the smile on her face wide enough to make her cheeks hurt. She ran her thumb over Thorin’s strong jaw, and thrilled in the way in made the dark-haired woman’s gaze grow heavy-lidded.

 

“I think,” Bilbo said, not noticing as snowflakes fell around them, “I think you have your answer.”

**Author's Note:**

> -psst- now you want to spread the FemBagginshield love. Yes, you do.


End file.
